


Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: Selling Ravyn Imyan

by DirtyScrolls



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blackmail, Brothels, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Dunmer (Elder Scrolls), Everyone else too - Freeform, Fantastic Racism, Forced Prostitution, Humiliation, M/M, Morag Tong, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Touching, Nords (Elder Scrolls), Public Humiliation, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Thieves Guild, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29884761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyScrolls/pseuds/DirtyScrolls
Summary: A humiliating public punishment for a badly misbehaving ex-assassin.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ravyn Imyan, Various People/Ravyn Imyan
Comments: 51
Kudos: 19
Collections: Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: The Dragonborn and Ravyn Imyan





	Adventures of a Mer-Chaser: Selling Ravyn Imyan

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please read the tags carefully. And please let me know if anything’s missing. And, and, please comment or give suggestions, if you feel so moved, as I always appreciate those.
> 
> I felt like I’d better post this. The Ravyn Imyan story-line needs to progress, and it was getting too long. However, I’m not entirely satisfied (who ever is, with their writing?). 
> 
> I still hope it’ll be an enjoyable read.
> 
> I will have a second part, coming soon-ish.

The issue of Niruin settled, Kordin had finally finished setting up the groundwork for addressing another problem.

“Imyan.” Coming up behind the man’s seat in the Ragged Flagon, and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What’re you drinking, beautiful?”

“Mead.”

“Would you like some Black-Briar Reserve? Here, I’ll get it.”

Kordin went to the bar, spoke to Vekel, and returned with two bottles. He opened them and handed one to the Dunmer, who put it aside as he finished what he had. He looked tired, though as tempting as usual in his meticulously clean Guild armor. Too much oil in his slicked hair—unfortunately, but not unexpectedly.

“Not going to thank me?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. Come with me. I need to talk to you somewhere more quiet.”

Ravyn Imyan picked up the expensive mead, and silently followed his Guildmaster out of the bar and across the mostly-empty Cistern to the Nord’s screened bed. 

“Why am I here?”

“That’s more of a question for a scholar or philosopher, don’t you think?” 

Kordin chuckled and patted Imyan’s strong back, squeezing the muscle of his shoulder. 

“I mean, what do you want?”

“Cutting right to the chase. I ever tell you how much I like your style, Imyan?”

“Just--”

“You’re here because I’ve decided how you and your fine ass and mouth are really going to be punished for your little mistake. For trying to kill me, that is. You deserve far more than what I gave you, don’t you think? I’ve made a little plan with some friends of mine. They run an expensive but not-quite-legal establishment not far from here. You’re going to go there with me and… entertain the clientele.”

“A brothel.”

“Yes.” Kordin massaged the back of the Dunmer’s pretty neck. “A brothel known for its quality and variety. I think you’ll be popular. Already spread the word about you. ‘Very handsome mature Dunmer, slim, excellent shape, pretty lips’. Your other option, of course, is that I tell Brynjolf and the others how you tried to murder your Guildmaster. You know how much the ginger likes me--I saved the fucking Guild.” 

Imyan gave him a harsh look.

“And, you understand,” Kordin said, in a low, conversational voice, “that I could make the redhead disappear, too, if I wanted. Make you both disappear. To somewhere where I could enjoy the two of you as I wished.”

Imyan continued to meet his gaze, his face cool and neutral.

“When would I--”

Kordin tugged Imyan’s oiled hair. 

“We leave today. Some of my friends will meet us in town. Mind you, they are not the kind of people you want to fuck with. Not the Brotherhood, but I still suggest you be careful.”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone else—anyone else touching me.”

“Actually, I think this experience will go a long way toward teaching you your place. You’ll be glad to please fewer men after this.”

“This the one?” asked Adrian, the refined, handsome brown-haired Breton in charge of the operation. He sounded pleased. With keen blue eyes, he looked the elf up and down. The high sun over the market brought out the bright scarlet tones in Imyan’s deep, slanted eyes, emphasized the silkiness, and the contrasting, intriguing ruggedness of his shaved face.

“Think he’ll sell well?”

“Yes. There’ll be a good cut left for you, too, I expect. You won’t have any good reason to beat his pretty grey ass, sadly for you.”

Adrian laughed, and gestured to the armed Nord woman and man with him, and the four led Imyan to the stables.

In a large and well-lit subterranean tavern, Kordin took his whore into a back room where there was a new bath waiting. 

“Gotta get you clean. Every part.” 

He helped Imyan step into the tub and fetched a rag from a nearby shelf, plus some soap that smelled of a blend of herbs—a rich smell. He wetted the cloth in the warm water and looked Imyan over. The water came halfway up his belly, distorting the lean legs and fine genitals.

He took Imyan by the hair and dipped it in the bath, then massaged soap into his scalp, working it into the wet thick black hair, caressing it clean in the bathwater. Imyan sighed involuntarily at the tender touch of the fingers on his scalp and the sensation of the warm water.

“Oh, I guess you like that, my grey beauty.”

Imyan didn’t answer.

He scrubbed Imyan’s broad back and strong chest, soaped under his armpits, then made him stand so he could soap and rinse his lush cock and balls and the deep crack and tight hole, the firm buttocks, then his long legs. Telling him to sit again, he lifted each leg so he could wash and fondle his slender feet. The Dunmer squirmed at the gentle attentions, but said nothing.

Imyan now wore dark leather armor similar to Athis’s slutty gear, quickly and carefully customized by the tavern’s experienced resident smith and seamstress. This was a jovial Orcish woman who enjoyed pinching Imyan’s lithe legs and sculpted buttocks as she adjusted the fit. He blushed at the handling.

The armor was made to explicitly emphasize his masculine charms. It showed off that lean torso perfectly. The toned legs were covered only by a short kilt of polished hide and tight knee-high boots made of the same. His strong slim forearms were hugged by dark bracers. 

His severe cheekbones were highlighted by the brothel’s makeup artist with jagged red stark paint that matched the gem color of his eyes exactly, and set off the soft grey of his Dunmer skin. The eyes themselves were thinly lined in smart black, accentuating their depth, color, and beauty. His hair was un-oiled, tied back to show off his sharp handsome face. 

Kordin wanted customers to think of him as a down-on-his-luck adventurer or indebted rogue—something like that, anyway. He wished he could advertise him as ex-Morag Tong. He imagined he’d be able to charge more by a quarter or third, if they knew they were taking a former member of an exotic religious order of killers.

There was a latticed wooden partition between the part of Imyan’s designated room where Kordin collected clients’ money, and the larger area with Imyan’s bed, a washstand, and a chest. Kordin watched, through a slit in the dividing screen, making sure the clients got what they paid for and only that. 

Early takers were more-or-less civilized, semi-sober, even gentle. Men and a surprising number of women entered to have their fun with the new Dunmer man, appreciating his mouth, his ass, his elegant prick, his hair, face, everything about him. Kordin envied every one of them.

The first customer was, not at all surprisingly to Kordin, a Stormcloak veteran from a rural area of Eastmarch. He was a bit older than Kordin, shy and dark-haired and even-featured with fair skin. Kordin gave him a slight discount for his vampiric good looks. 

He asked, nervously, to be allowed to kiss Imyan and then to have him suck his cock, and to return the favor himself. 

Kordin saw the other Nord’s mouth eat up Imyan’s lips, saw him caress his neck with his own lips and tongue. He listened to him direct Imyan gently to his knees. He watched him play softly with Imyan’s dark hair as the mer went down on him, undoing it, stroking it--not pulling, just stroking. 

He watched him slobber all over Imyan’s prick, watched his clear pleasure in making him hard, asking him every minute or so how he liked this or that, with many pauses to kiss his inner thighs and his lean belly. 

Kordin wanted to tell him it wasn’t their fucking wedding night, but the man’s gold was as good as anyone’s. 

Th dark-haired Nord walked out with a small satisfied smile. Kordin could not help putting a hand on his handsome shoulder as he told him goodnight.

Next was a well-dressed young Breton with an intense—but, Kordin thought, quite understandable—interest in Imyan’s grey rear end and dark crack. 

This man was considerably more brusque than the last, though not too rough. He made the Dunmer get on his hands and knees in the bed and lifted the leather armor in back, delighted to find nothing else covering his dignity beneath. 

For a little while, he played with the mer’s firm cheeks, spreading and pinching them, stroking over the dark hole between with his thumbs, poking his unlubricated fingers into the opening. 

He then told him to spread himself prone on the bed, and gave him a rough, long, intense tonguing, masturbating as he did so. Kordin thought he saw him nibble at the elf’s crack and cheeks, planned to charge extra if the man left marks. 

Finally, the Breton smacked Imyan’s well-licked ass smartly and ordered him to get on his knees and arms, lean forward, and stick it up to be fucked. He hadn’t paid to come inside him, but he courteously pulled out and finished in the rag provided.

The third client was also clearly an ass man, in a slightly different way. He was a distinguished Nord in his fifties or so, who wryly referred to the much older Imyan as a “wanton boy”. He pulled the mer by the hair to the bed, then put him face-down over his lap. He lifted the back of the armor, called him a “little slut”, for leaving himself bare underneath. 

The cracks from the hard spanking he applied to the mer’s round ass echoed in the small room. Kordin had told him about the chest full of things to punish him with, but the older Nord seemed to think his callused hand was good enough. Watching him work on the elf’s backside, Kordin couldn’t exactly disagree, given how the ex-assassin squirmed. 

The man had given the extra coin to come inside Imyan, so he sat the Dunmer’s ass on his prick and thrust up into him, and finished with several damp kisses to Imyan’s ears and neck. The mer’s face was as vivid a red as his ass, probably because of the partial erection he’d gotten during the degrading handling. The client taunted and slapped Imyan’s half-hard prick, and left it unsatisfied.

Kordin watched Imyan use a rag and some of the water and soap to wipe away the seed trickling from between his buttocks and down his thighs, then rub his own blushing ass-cheeks with healing balm. His erection went down as he saw to himself.

A Redguard man and his Argonian wife came next. They had booked in advance, and were clearly very well-heeled. Expensive fur robes by Radiant Raimant. Hammerfell scimitars (imported and expensive, they made sure to say), which they’d left at the door. The finest (imported, expensive) Black Marsh jewelry. All of which they found it necessary to describe to Kordin, who nodded disinterestedly. 

Other rich people—he knew from many tedious dinners--could be so boring. 

Another Nord came in for a blowjob and licked his own semen from the Dunmer’s pliant lips.

Yet another Nord gleefully used the whip on the elf’s back and rear, then sucked Imyan and licked his welted ass before pulling him up on all fours and fucking him hard.

Two Imperial ladies in their thirties, giddy with alto wine, tied him to the bed, inserted a glass dildo into his oiled and well-fingered hole, and took turns riding him, saying how long it had been since either had had a Dark Elf. 

Watching the customers use Imyan, and his humiliated scrambling to wash off the oil and come, heal himself crudely, and dress, between clients, Kordin got hard under his armor, but he couldn’t jerk off, as he had to collect coin. It was also getting later, and the tavern patrons drunker and rowdier, so he resolved to remain alert.

Three loud young Nords came in. One was tall, with blond curls, and he appeared to be the drunkest and youngest. Another was short and well-built, with long fine pale hair held back by a few tight braids. The third was medium-height and had short brown hair and green eyes. 

“We heard you had a real… nice Dark Elf guy here,” Short Blond said. “Not many of those in Whiterun. Only grey-skin is a Companion. Very haughty. Thinks he’s better than us guards.”

Kordin opened the screen to show them Imyan reclining on the bed, his eyes closed, the hem of his scant armor hiked up, displaying his muscled upper thighs. 

He thought of Athis—haughty, yes, but a gorgeous fuck.

“Handsome thing,” Green Eyes remarked, after they’d all peered in and assessed Imyan.

“Gorgeous grey legs,” slurred Tall Blond. “I’d like to see them spread.”

“Does he have pretty feet?” the short one asked—clearly a man after Kordin’s own mind.

“Beautiful feet, I can tell you that.” Kordin smiled kindly. “And, you should know, there are lots of fun things to use on him in there.”

“Like what?” asked the drunkest, Tall Blond, eyes gleaming.

“Ropes and chains, if you want him helpless. Fine glass dildos to stick up into him. All the oil you need to open him. If you’d like to beat him, we’ve got a whip, riding crop, a nice paddle. He can take a lot of pain. It’ll cost you extra to mark him up. It’s extra to come in him, too.”

“It’s his birthday,” the short young blond man said, proffering gold and gesturing to his drunkest comrade, the taller blond. “We’re sparing no expense.” He glanced at the slit in Imyan’s screen. “Especially for such a rare beauty. How much for the rest of the night?”

Kordin named the price, which they offered gladly. He wondered how they managed this on guards’ salaries, but that was hardly his business. 

“Have at him,” he encouraged, taking their coin and letting them into Imyan’s part of the room.

First, they explored him with their clumsy hands, reaching up under his armor to check out his cock and balls and pinch his thighs and ass-cheeks, palming his chest around the dark leather straps of the armor, slowly loosening and stroking his dark hair. 

They made frequent remarks about his unusual grey good looks, some close enough to chaste to betray their naivete, their unavoidable sense of sexual wonder, and some closer to frankly filthy, the bombastic sort of comments young people often made among themselves. 

At least, they seemed to realize how lucky they were to have until dawn with such a delicious Dunmer.

The short blond boy dug in the chest and pulled out some rope, holding up his find triumphantly.

Green Eyes and Tall Blond undid and removed the assassin’s revealing armor and gauntlets, massaging his cock till it grew half-hard (“look at that fine grey-skin prick”, one of them said). 

Short Blond, the one who had asked Kordin about Imyan’s feet, unlaced the boots, massaging each foot thoroughly, fascinated. This made Imyan wiggle, and all three Nord boys laughed. 

They turned his lean body over and tied his wiry arms with the ropes to the bedposts. As they bound him, they ran their hands over his back, rear, and legs, and felt up and then spread his cheeks for an indulgent look at his asshole and inner buttocks, commenting in vulgar terms on the firmness and smoothness of the flesh, the glossy hair around his “sweet” hole, saying how much they looked forward to penetrating that “lush grey ass”, feeling his “dusky, tight pucker”. 

“I’m thinking we beat him a bit. Slutty little elf,” said Tall Blond, the birthday boy, his voice eager as he moved toward the trunk. 

“Better be careful what we use,” Green Eyes said, “He’s got a nice body, strong, but I dunno if--”

“Looks tough enough,” Short Blond cut in. “What about the crop, there?”

The young, inebriated blond smiled.

“A little of that paddle first,” he said. Kordin could almost hear him lick his lips. “It’ll cover more of his ass. Make it hot and red. Then maybe I’ll give him a few fingers, before the crop.”

“These sweet, fit thighs,” Green Eyes praised, feeling Imyan up from his knee to buttock, squeezing, reaching around. “And this fine cock. Wanna try and get him hard? I wanna jerk him.”

“After we fuck him,” agreed Tall Blond

“Seems like a good whore so far,” Short Blond said, pinching Imyan’s thigh. “Compliant. And such a beauty. Always wanted a grey one. Hard to believe he’s, like, three hundred, you know? I hope he has some fight. Maybe we’ll have to make him be nice to us.”

“You want to resist a little for us, handsome?” the same boy said to Imyan, massaging his buttocks. “So lovely and strong. You can put up a fight, can’t you?” He stroked between his cheeks. “Try to break the ropes. Squirm for us.”

Imyan made a realistic-looking effort to strain at the thick ropes. It was clear to Kordin he was not wasting all his strength. Nonetheless, his struggles made his muscles stand out nicely under torchlit stone-grey skin. 

The tall blond gripped Imyan’s hips and lapped between his cheeks, spreading the muscled buttocks hungrily to get at his asshole. Imyan dutifully squirmed away from his tongue, and the boy smiled and gave his thigh a slap, before pinning his legs and diving into his dark cleft again, eating that fine grey ass like he hadn’t had a meal in weeks.

“Divines, he’s sweet. We can beat him later. I gotta fuck him—I just can’t--c’mon, gimme the oil,” Tall Blond said huskily, to no one in particular. Green Eyes handed it to him.

Thick, inexperienced Nord fingers coated in oil parted and probed Imyan’s dark nether-regions, while Imyan wiggled and the tall blond boy breathed hard and his friends watched. 

“Look how he just... twitches whenever you pull out,” said Short Blond. “Gods, that pretty dark hole. You don’t fuck it soon, I’ll be glad to push you outta the way.”

“No chance. He’s going to feel me now.”

The tall blond fed his prick with ungraceful thrusts into Imyan’s passage. He fucked him, starting and keeping with a hard strong rhythm. His hips smacked against Imyan. His breath was so heavy it echoed in the small room. Imyan continued to struggle, but made little moaning sounds Kordin was not sure were genuine. Perhaps Imyan was acting, or perhaps he really felt pleasure from being taken by a crude young Nord guard. 

The other two boys watched their colleague’s luck, enraptured, just for a few moments. Then they moved toward Imyan and stood so that they could more easily see the youth’s cock invade the firm round grey ass. They took out their pricks and began to stroke themselves, giving each other grinning glances every so often.

Tall Blond gleefully held the Dunmer’s hips down as he thrust in and out of him, picking up speed. Kordin didn’t think he was at the right angle to get Imyan’s sweet spot, but wasn’t sure. All he was sure of was Imyan’s squirming in his bonds even as he let out what seemed like reluctant sounds of enjoyment.

As one might expect from a young man faced with such an exciting experience, Tall Blond did not take long to fill Imyan’s guts with come.

“How’d you like that?” he asked his whore, with a rough sigh, as he pulled out.

“Look how he’s dripping,” Green Eyes pointed out, pumping his cock enthusiastically.

“Looks like the slut he is,” remarked Short Blond.

“I’m gonna come on him,” announced Green Eyes.

“Yeah, get ‘im good and dirty,” encouraged Tall Blond, his voice breathy as he recovered from his orgasm.

Green Eyes needed no further invitation. He moved toward Imyan’s leaking ass, and aimed at the two beautifully rounded cheeks. His pearly come painted glistening streaks over the lovely grey flesh.

Short Blond smiled. He positioned himself near Imyan’s head, to cheers from his friends. He used one hand to tug Imyan’s head to show his handsome profile. He used the other to continue his quick-handed self-stimulation. Then he came on the side of the elf’s face, and in his hair, long quick spurts.

“Sweet little grey bastard was made for this,” he sighed.

Tied up and dripping come and oil from his ass, marked by streaks of it, Ravyn Imyan looked debauched, abject, exactly what Kordin had wanted. It seemed the three boys liked the way he looked, too, as they all took time to survey him.

“Beautiful,” said Short Blond.

“Best whore I’ve ever seen,” said Tall Blond.

“How many how you seen?” snorted Green Eyes. “Though, I’ll give you, this one is fucking tasty.”

He moved toward the chest of toys.


End file.
